I was eight months pregnant, at a charity gala with my husband, Don Massimo, when a rival family hit us.

The crowd panicked. I was shoved to the floor, hard. Blood everywhere.

Massimo lost his mind, screaming for medics, desperate to save my baby.

But when I woke up, they were gone. Both of them. No baby, no Massimo.

I remembered the gunfire, Massimo shielding me with his body. A cold dread washed over me.

I hauled myself into a wheelchair and raced down the hall. That’s when I heard them—Massimo and the doctor.

"Boss, I'm sorry. We did everything we could. The baby… he didn't make it."

Tears streamed down my face. They killed my baby. The rival family killed my baby. But his next words shattered my world.

"There was only one medical team. I had to make a choice. Bianca… she was carrying my child, too."

Massimo sighed, then gave the order.

"No one tells Arabella. She'll raise Bianca's son as her own. He will be my only heir."

I slapped a hand over my mouth, my vision blurred by tears as I turned away.

The man I loved was a lie.

Fine. If he wants a war, he'll get one.

I woke up from the nightmare of my stillbirth only to find a new one waiting. In the hallway, I heard my husband, Don Massimo, plotting with the doctor.

"Boss, the baby's dead. What if the Donna suspects something?" Valenti, the doctor, added nervously.

Pain ripped through my stomach, but I had to hear the rest of his twisted plan.

"She won't," his voice was terrifyingly calm. "I'll bring her Bianca's son. I'll tell her he's ours. As for the other one, the dead one… wipe the records clean."

"He was my son, too. But he's dead. Find a decent plot and bury him," his voice cracked for a fraction of a second. Then the ice returned.

"And one more thing. That new sterilization drug the hospital has? Give it to Arabella."

Dr. Valenti's voice trembled. "Boss, that drug… the Donna just delivered a stillborn. Her body is extremely weak. She'll be barren. Permanently."

"Do it," Massimo's voice was ice. "I promised Bianca her son would be my only heir. Arabella can't have any more children. No loose ends. A single shot is kinder than making her suffer through one 'accident' after another. You get me, Dr. Valenti?"

I bit my lip so hard I tasted blood, fighting the urge to scream.

"Jewels, money, a goddamn mansion… I'll give her anything she wants. It'll make up for it."

No jewel in the world was worth more than my child.

I controlled my shaking body and hid in a stairwell, forcing myself to stay silent.

But when Massimo's deputy, Alex, arrived, my world shattered completely.

"Boss, we looked into it… The Moretti family's attack… it looks like an inside job. Our guys at the east gate were pulled away by a forged transfer order. And the order was signed right around the time you were… with Miss Bianca."

Massimo was silent for a long time. When he finally spoke, his tone was casual, almost light. "Let's just go with it. The Morettis gave me the perfect excuse, didn't they? I was looking for a way for Arabella to 'lose' our child without it being on me."

My world didn't just crumble. It turned to ash.

Silent tears slid down my cheeks. I pressed my trembling hand to my mouth, terrified of making a sound.

My baby was dead.

Because he was sleeping with Bianca—the orphaned daughter of his mother's best friend.

Because he pulled security to please his mistress.

He chose to save Bianca, and let our son die.

And I never even got to see his face.

The pain was so immense it felt like my heart was being torn from my chest.

After Massimo left, I used my last ounce of strength to get back to my room and collapse onto the bed. Chained to this wheelchair, I was too weak to get revenge.

My only option now was to endure. To wait for my chance to strike back.

I closed my eyes, letting tears soak the pillow.

When I opened them again, Massimo was sitting by my bed, holding a swaddled infant.

He had the smile of a proud father, looking down at the baby with pure love.

"Arabella, you're awake," he looked up, his eyes full of joy. "Come and see our beautiful boy."

Our beautiful boy?

A bitter laugh almost escaped my lips.

That was Bianca's son.

"I'm so happy you gave me this treasure," Massimo stood and carefully passed the baby to me. "He'll be loved by all of us. He'll be the heir to our family."

I took the baby robotically, staring at the unfamiliar little face.

This wasn't my baby.

A tidal wave of rage crashed over me, but my weak body couldn't handle it.

Suddenly, a sharp, tearing pain shot through my stomach.

"Ah—" I doubled over as blood began to soak through the sheets.

"Arabella!" Massimo yelled. "Get a doctor! Now!"

Dr. Valenti rushed in, saw the blood, and started barking orders.

"Postpartum hemorrhage! We need to move, now!"

My consciousness was fading, but I could still hear Massimo's voice, cold and clear.

"Do it now. Inject the drug."

The drug that would make me barren forever.

I wanted to fight, to scream, but my body wouldn't obey.

A needle pierced the skin of my arm.

Darkness swallowed me whole.

When I woke up, Massimo was sitting by the bed, his eyes red-rimmed.

"Arabella, you scared the hell out of me," he gripped my hand, his voice choked with emotion. "The doctors… they said because of the difficult birth and the blood loss, your uterus suffered irreversible damage. You… you can't have any more children."

A tear rolled down his cheek. "It's those bastards, the Morettis! If it wasn't for their attack, none of this would have happened. I'll make them pay with their lives!"

What an actor.

If I didn't know the truth, I might have actually been moved.

"Thank God we already have our heir," Massimo stroked my cheek. "Otherwise, I think I'd go insane."

I closed my eyes. I couldn't look at his lying face.

"I'll go get you some soup," Massimo stood. "I'm sending the baby home with my mother for now. You need to rest."

I thought he would leave.

But after sending the baby off, he didn't call for a nurse. He came back himself, holding a bowl.

"Here, open up."

He fed me spoon by spoon, his movements gentle and careful.

The Don himself, waiting on me hand and foot. It was something I never would have dreamed of.

"I had the chef make a broth. The old recipe. It's good for you."

If I didn't know the truth, I would have thought he was a loving husband.

But he wasn't. He was my enemy.

Massimo took care of me for seven days straight, but it did nothing to cool the hatred in my heart.

On the seventh night, he fell asleep in the chair next to my bed, exhausted.

With a trembling hand, I reached into his suit jacket and found an encrypted phone I'd never seen before.

I tried our anniversary. Our son's due date. Nothing.

On a bitter impulse, I typed in Bianca's birthday. It unlocked.

The screen lit up. A message from Bianca, sent two weeks ago:

"My love, the ultrasound today was perfect. The baby is so healthy. The sunset in Miami is beautiful. Wish you were here to see it with me."

Miami?

I scrolled up. Every message was a knife in my heart.

For the past eight months, Massimo had told me he was in Colombia, handling business.

Lies. All of it.

He was on his private island in Miami with Bianca, waiting for her to give birth.

There were pictures. One after another.

Massimo teaching Bianca to shoot, his hand covering hers, correcting her stance.

Massimo painting her portrait, making her look like a goddess.

Massimo peeling grapes for her, feeding them to her one by one.

A killer with blood on his hands, peeling grapes for his whore.

And me?

I was at home, waiting alone, worrying about him every single day.

Every time he called with a "business update," I was too anxious to sleep.

I even lit candles for him at church, praying for his safety.

What a fool I was.

I remembered the first time I met Bianca. It was Thanksgiving, two years ago. Massimo’s mother, Maria, was holding her and crying.

"Bianca, my poor darling, you've suffered so much. Your mother asked me to look after you on her deathbed, and I will."

Maria told me Bianca was the daughter of her dead best friend. She and Massimo were childhood sweethearts, but she'd married an English nobleman. Her husband died in a car crash last year, leaving her pregnant and alone, so she'd returned to Chicago.

I’d pitied her. What a joke. Her whole damsel-in-distress routine was just an act.

Her husband probably wasn't even dead. Maybe he never existed at all.

I kept scrolling and saw an address that made my blood run cold.

1247 Oak Street, on the shore of Lake Michigan.

My heart stopped.

That was the address of the glass art studio Massimo had promised to build for me. My dream sanctuary, for my work as an art restorer.

"After the baby is born, I'll build you a studio right on the lake," he had promised. "All glass walls, so you can watch the water while you work."

My hand shook as I clicked on a video file.

The camera was shaky. It was Massimo's point of view.

He was giving Bianca a tour of the studio. The one I had dreamed of for years.

"Do you like it?" Massimo’s voice purred from the phone. "I built it just for you. My studio. My Bianca."

Bianca let out a flirtatious laugh and stood on her toes to kiss his lips.

"I love it, Massimo. As much as I love you."

The walls were covered in her paintings. Every single one was of Massimo.

And in the center of the room, on the very easel I had picked out and had shipped from Italy, sat an unfinished painting.

It was a portrait of Bianca holding a baby whose face wasn't finished, with Massimo embracing her from behind.

It was supposed to be… our family portrait.

My hand was shaking so badly I could barely hold the phone.

Tears blurred my vision, but I forced myself to keep looking.

I needed to see just how deep his betrayal went.

The last message was from three hours ago:

"Massimo, our son misses you. He won't stop crying, but he gets quiet when he sees your picture."

Attached was a photo of Bianca holding the baby they were passing off as mine.

The baby's big eyes were open, his tiny hand clutching a picture of Massimo.

The perfect little family. And I was just an incubator. A disposable tool.

I deleted my browsing history and carefully placed the phone back in Massimo's pocket.

Then I took out my own phone and booked a one-way ticket to Italy, for three days from now.

I was leaving this place. And I was never coming back.

The next day, Massimo wanted to take me to a family gathering at the estate.

"You need to see the family," he said gently. "They're all worried about you."

Worried? I almost laughed out loud.

When we arrived, I saw exactly what I expected.

Bianca was lounging on the sofa, dressed in the latest Valentino, as my mother-in-law, Maria, fed her caviar from a spoon.

"Eat up, Bianca, my darling. You just had a baby and you were hurt. You need to get your strength back."

Hurt?

Bianca looked more radiant than I'd ever seen her. Her skin was glowing, her figure already perfect again.

She didn't look like someone who'd just been through hell.

Then there was me.

Pale, with dark circles under my eyes, so thin I looked like a ghost.

"Arabella!" My mother-in-law's brow furrowed when she saw me. "What on earth are you wearing?"

"You are the Donna of the Falcone family. How dare you show up to a family gathering dressed like that?"

I looked down at my simple black dress. It was plain, but perfectly respectable.

"Look at Bianca," Maria turned back to her with a doting smile. "Even after being so badly hurt, she's still so elegant and beautiful. Such a good girl, always so sweet. Since you lost your mother, I'll just have to love you like my own daughter."

In the past, Massimo would have defended me.

Today, he sat in silence.

Then Maria brought out the family's heirloom sapphire necklace. As she was about to put it on Bianca, Massimo finally spoke.

"Mama, a necklace isn't enough."

He made a phone call. Moments later, his men started carrying in bags. A hundred of them.

Hermès, Chanel, Louis Vuitton, Dior...

Each one worth tens of thousands of dollars.

"Bianca, I know you like bags," Massimo said with a smile. "The finest jewels deserve the finest bags to carry them in. Don't you agree?"

Bianca gasped, covering her mouth in delight. "Massimo, you're too good to me!"

She rose onto her toes and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

The air in the living room went still.

Massimo took an awkward step back. "Bianca's just… excited," he explained, looking at me. "We grew up together, she's always been more affectionate. She just had a baby, no husband around… try to be understanding, Arabella."

Understanding? I watched Bianca's coy smile and felt my stomach churn.

"Massimo's right," Bianca cooed, running her hands over the expensive leather. "You've always been the only one who's good to me."

Her fingers brushed against the back of Massimo's hand, a touch so intimate it felt like a challenge.

Catching my glare, Bianca suddenly clutched her forehead, swaying as if she was about to faint, and collapsed into Massimo's arms.

"I… I feel so dizzy all of a sudden. So tired. Can you take me upstairs to rest?"

Massimo’s arms shot out to catch her by pure instinct. In his haste, his elbow slammed into my side.

"Ah—"

I lost my balance and fell hard onto the rug. A searing pain tore through my barely-healed surgical wound.

But Massimo didn't even look at me.

His eyes were wide with panic, fixed on Bianca. "Sweetheart, what's wrong?"

"I… I'm dizzy," Bianca whispered weakly into his chest.

"Okay, okay. I'll take you upstairs to rest."

He swept her into his arms—a perfect princess carry—and disappeared up the stairs, never once looking back at me.

I lay on the floor, watching them disappear around the corner.

From start to finish, he never looked at me. It was like I wasn't even there.

"Look at her. Our 'Donna'," Maria's voice dripped with contempt.

"Can't even stand on her own two feet. What an embarrassment."

The whispers started among the other family members.

"No wonder Massimo has a soft spot for Bianca."

"Right? What's this one good for besides a pretty face?"

"All that talk about her 'artistic talent' fixing the family's art business… she never even got close to the real operation."

Maria sneered. "Massimo only married her out of pity. Now that Bianca's back, he finally has a real woman by his side."

I struggled to my feet, my legs shaking.

I couldn't break down here. I wouldn't let them see me cry.

I limped towards Massimo’s study, clutching the divorce papers I had already prepared.

I reached the second-floor landing and froze. I heard them before I saw them. Moans. Coming from the study.

I crept to the door and peered through the crack.

The scene inside made me want to scream.

Bianca was sitting on Massimo's lap, unbuttoning her dress.

"Massimo," she purred, "it hurts so much. My milk has come in and there’s no baby to feed. Won't you… help me?"

"Bianca, no," Massimo's voice was strained. "You're still recovering."

But his hand was already on her waist.

"I don't care," Bianca said petulantly. "I only want you."

She grabbed his head, pulling it towards her chest.

Massimo was barely resisting, his mouth saying "no" while his hands roamed her body.

He wrapped his arms around her from behind, kissing her neck.

"My baby…"

I couldn't watch anymore. My stomach revolted. I clamped a hand over my mouth and ran out of the villa.

The cold air burned my lungs, but it couldn't chase away the disgusting image.

I stumbled into the garden behind the estate.

There was a field of tulips here. Massimo had planted them for me with his own hands.

"When spring comes, you'll see a whole field of tulips," he'd promised. "Red, for my burning love for you."

Such a sweet lie.

I fell to my knees among the flowers, letting my tears fall onto the petals.

"You look like you're in pain."

A sickly sweet voice came from behind me.

I turned. Bianca was standing elegantly on the path.

Her clothes were perfectly arranged, her face flushed with satisfaction.

"Does it hurt? Seeing me and Massimo together?" Bianca stepped closer. "Oh, right. You should be used to it by now."

I clenched my fists, fighting the urge to tear her apart.

"You know," Bianca crouched down, her lips close to my ear, "if I hadn't gotten married in Europe, the spot next to Massimo would never have been yours."

"He was always mine," her voice was pure venom. "You should have been gone the second I came back."

"But then you got pregnant," Bianca sneered. "Such an inconvenience. Though, in the end, you saved me the trouble of getting rid of you myself."

She paused, a crazed light in her eyes.

"Do you want to know how your pathetic little boy really died?"

My heart stopped.

"I paid the midwife. The second he was born, she simply... held a pillow over his face until he went still. I had your son murdered, Arabella."

Blood rushed to my head.

I raised my hand and swung, aiming for her smug face.

But she was faster.

Bianca grabbed my wrist and then threw herself backwards.

CRACK!

Her forehead slammed against the stone steps of the garden path.

Blood instantly gushed from the wound.

"HELP!" Bianca shrieked. "ARABELLA PUSHED ME! SHE'S TRYING TO KILL ME!"

The next second, Massimo burst out of the villa.

He saw Bianca, her face covered in blood, and his eyes lit with fury.

He shoved me to the ground without a thought, then carefully scooped Bianca up.

Cradling her in his arms, he turned and roared at me, "ARABELLA, ARE YOU INSANE?!"